


Healing Process

by Nicxan



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Eye Trauma, Gen, Mild Gore, Purple Guy/Phone Guy mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 16:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicxan/pseuds/Nicxan
Summary: I've seen many spirits come and go in this void.Almost everyone needs someone to help them heal.





	Healing Process

I’ve spent an eternity at the edge of existence. When one has spent that long in one spot, you learn what’s normal and what’s not. It was difficult to discern, with humans being so varied. After a while, though, you notice certain behaviors common with the departed.  
  
Normal is watching over spirits who had harmed others by accident in their lifetime. Spirits who took wrong turns while trying to do the right thing. Purgatory was always harsh for ones so sheltered, but in the end, their good natures would help them ascend towards their final resting place.  
  
Normal is taking newborns who had died tragically up to where they could rest as soon as they arrived. Purgatory never was needed for ones so innocent and blameless. It hurt at first, but with how often it happens nowadays, one gets numb to it.  
  
Normal is watching someone wrestle with their own demons, and then fall screaming into hell once they refused to learn their lessons. I watch these cases closely, but there’s no helping those who do not wish to be helped. All I can do with these is watch and make sure that their punishments are executed properly.  
  
While William Afton’s fractured spirit was starting to fall into this pattern, what made this particular purgatory _not_ normal was the sheer amount of hurt this one person caused. I hadn’t had such a massive influx of angry spirits in this space for over a hundred years.  
  
Their anger was palpable. It was very justified, as all of this malice was directed towards their murderer, but it had already eaten away at their very souls. The one who had organized William’s near-eternal punishment seemed to be completely lost to their hatred – they watched with glee as the mechanical animals rushed towards him. They watched as the animals tore him apart over and over again, each time more brutal than the last.  
  
All I could do was observe. Sometimes, I would make William catch a fish just to see how he had been faring. He always looked miserable and exhausted, with heavy bags under his eyes. The scars from each attack carried over into the next attempt of survival. Once in a while, I would see him sobbing. Victories didn’t comfort him – he knew he would have to do it again immediately.  
  
As it should have been. He had many victories in life; he didn’t need them here.  
  
My focus had turned to these wayward children long ago. I sat with them, listened to them as they sobbed about how this one man had ruined their lives. I heard every heartache, every regret, and how they lamented the fact that they had been murderers themselves. They hated the fact that innocent lives were lost because of them.  
  
Almost all of them feared becoming who they hated most.  
  
I would set down my fishing rod to give them a tight hug when they needed one. They would sob into their mother’s arms, or the arms of their favorite uncle. Or perhaps it was their best friend. Whatever I needed to be for them, I would be. Of course, this wasn’t an instantaneous process; sometimes, these children had to realize these things over and over again. While the anger still gnawed away at them, it was never as intense as when they arrived.  
  
Over time, I got to see all of the children. Some were more receptive to my quiet help than others. Some needed to be spoken with dozens of times, while others found their peace earlier on. Yet, none of them could let go. It was truly a shame, but it was not my place to hurry them along. This space was just as much their purgatory as it was William’s. They had to learn a lesson, too.  
  
So, I continued to observe. I fished peacefully in my private corner of this void, and watched William suffer the consequences for his choices. Sometimes, I would let a spirit sit with me and watch with me when they grew weary. Almost everyone decided that they were comfortable with me.  
  
At this point, there were only two I hadn’t seen yet. Afton would never get respite. After all, I wasn’t allowed to interfere with the plan. The other one, however, just remained elusive. I couldn’t sense much else. But it was all right. Eventually, everyone needed a break. It wasn’t as if these children were going to come to terms with everything quickly. There was plenty of time.  
  
I could wait. I could always wait.  
  
Finally, that elusive spirit sat across from me on the red grass. I could sense his arrival before he showed himself; any flicker of a presence seemed deafening in a silent spot such as mine. I tilted my head up to observe him for a moment.  
  
I hadn’t _seen_ this spirit until now, but I knew I had heard him. His voice was very distinct by itself, but it stuck out even more since he was the only other adult here. Other animatronics sounded older, but it was the children piloting them and using their voice boxes. This, however, was just a human.  
  
An exhausted human that couldn’t let go, just like the rest of them.  
  
I remained silent and cast my line into the black lake, staring into it as the black bear emerged from the closet. The larger, yellow one with teeth in its stomach followed close behind it. Both were headed to the office, moving far faster than any machine of that size should be able to. I could almost hear William screaming in horror even from this far away.  
  
“… D’you think he’ll make it?” came a broken, strained voice. It was from my visitor, who had leaned over to see more of what I could. “It, uh, doesn’t sound like it.” I looked over at this man, pity in my near-empty eyes.  
  
His spirit shifted as the children’s did. There were points where I could see what he looked like in life. He was at a healthy weight back then, with messy black hair and vibrant green eyes. Even now, he appeared in his work uniform, golden-colored name tag shining bright.  
  
Then, he would flicker, and I would see his eyes out of his sockets. Blood soaked through his shirt, painting it red, and the slacks were ripped up beyond belief. His movements seemed stiffer. Tears ran down his blood-stained face. Yet, he didn’t seem to be bothered. Not overtly, at least.  
  
“Doubt it,” I replied. “He was dealt a bad hand today.” When that one child rallied everyone together for a bigger attack, it was a sign that his anger was out of control. He would participate himself instead of standing idly by, almost as if his murderer’s cries of anguish were lullabies.  
  
Charlie would agree with that much.  
  
But right now, it wasn’t about them. I had an obligation to pay attention to this ghost that had sat with me, looking for a respite. I stared over at the man again.  
  
“What’s your name, son?” My voice shifted from my usual tone to a smooth English accent. I felt my form get taller, and grow much skinnier. A blond ponytail rested just over my current shoulder. The spirit jumped and stared over at me in mute horror. I saw him work his mouth for a moment, struggling to find words.  
  
“It’s – It’s Eric, sir –” he stammered out. I saw his hands shake and the way he shrunk in my presence.  
  
Ah.  
  
“It’s all right. You don’t need to be afraid of anything. It’s quiet here. Just you and me.” The English accent faded mid-sentence, returning to a more familiar drawl. Stubble grew on my current face. This figure was much more portly, to the point where I had to shift my arms just a bit to re-align my fishing rod. I could see the faint imprint of plaid over a white undershirt as I moved.  
  
I knew this was Henry. This provided some comfort to many of the children, and this seemed to be no exception. Eric looked much less scared of Henry than William. While I could sense his confusion, his shoulders went slack and he let out a quiet, relieved sigh.  
  
Much better.  
  
“Rest a while,” I continued. “Everything’s okay, Eric. No one can get to you here.” That is when I saw him finally relax. Even as his eyes dangled past his jaw, even as the blood continued to spill into my lake, he relaxed.  
  
We sat like this for quite some time. I continued to fish and observe, and he simply watched with me. Our comfortable silence stretched through multiple deaths of William. I saw Eric wince now and again at the particularly brutal ones. I could sense how conflicted he felt and the dismay that brought.  
  
“You’re not relaxing.” Eric flinched and averted his gaze away from the lake. The red grass around us swayed in the false wind, and he stared at that instead.  
  
“It’s hard.” His voice wavered while he spoke. “I hate what he did, I just can’t hate him. I know I should. He did awful things, and I’m reminded by the kids all the time, and ...” Eric choked back a sob, and tried to hide his shakes. I looked away out of respect, and simply waited.  
  
I reeled in one of the smaller fish. It squirmed in my hand, flapping about madly for freedom. I obliged, and tossed it right back into the pond. Once I cast the line back out, I heard him speak again.  
  
“They don’t trust me. I mean, they told me to help, since I was hurt by him so bad, and I do, I try. I really do. But I can’t – I can’t hurt him. I can’t even look at him.”  
  
“Why do you feel the need to do either of those things?” I tilted my head, frowning to give the appearance of a concerned fatherly figure. “You being here is already torture enough, son. The last thing you need is to hurt yourself even more. You’re not the one that’s facing punishment.”  
  
“Feels like I should be,” Eric whispered. “I could’ve stopped him, and didn’t. I should’ve known better, and I should’ve paid more attention, and I … I …” He trailed off, staring blankly at the ground. “I was so stupid.”  
  
“Naive, maybe.”  
  
Eric chuckled sadly. “Same thing, I guess.”  
  
I stared at Eric intently. Uncomfortably. Once again, he shrunk under my harsh gaze, trembling at the quick sight of my long jaw and the teeth that jut out of it.  
  
“Do you want me to put you in his place?” I asked, my true voice slipping through. It wasn’t as comforting as Henry’s or as familiar as William’s, and now Eric whimpered at the sound of it. “If you truly feel like you deserve the same fate as him, I can arrange it.”  
  
“No!” Eric’s response was automatic, as I knew it would be. “No, please! I don’t – I don’t -”  
  
I let the teeth fade and I allowed my face return to Henry’s visage almost instantaneously. “Then you know the truth: Even if it’s subconscious knowledge, you know you’re not as bad as he is.”  
  
I allowed him to process this however he needed to. This method normally left the wayward soul silent for quite some time, and there was no use rushing it. I simply continued to fish while he put his thoughts together.  
  
He spoke again, much meeker this time. “But then why am I here? If I don’t deserve it, why am I _here_?”  
  
“You’re clinging to all of this. That’s why you’re still here,” I said as softly as I could muster. “You need to learn to let go, son.”  
  
Eric sniffled. Then, he burst into inconsolable sobs.  
  
I knew I had shifted back to William’s form by the time Eric, like the children, had reached out for a hug. I said nothing, only hugging the spirit for as long as he needed me to. He clung just like the other spirits had, and the tears, as always, were mixed with blood. Whatever clothes they stained would be fixed by the time I changed my form for the next person that came here.  
  
“I can’t. This is all I know. _He’s _all I knew, I – I _can’t_ –”  
  
“Perhaps not now,” William’s voice whispered to Eric. “But someday, you will. Even if it takes a long time, you will heal. And all of you will always have a quiet space here.”  
  
“He never said things like that to me. He was never that nice to me.” Eric shook his head against me. “S-Stop it – stop talking like that like him –” Eric clutched at my shirt tighter despite himself. “Please, stop ...” He sounded broken. Defeated. Confused, more than anything.  
  
It was always a shame to see someone so ruined by someone they had cared so much about. This was nothing I hadn’t heard before, but these lost spirits in particular had a way of softening me. They were always so earnest in their love – always so heartbroken when deceived.  
  
Humans could be the cruelest to the kindest.  
  
“You’ve been hurt,” I started. I forced myself to stop using William’s appearance, even with the extreme amount of effort it took. How deeply had this man been entwined with him?  
  
All I could manage was my true voice as I rasped out more comfort for the lost soul. “You’re suffering for it. But he will not have a hold on you like this forever. Soon, you will realize how little he truly means.”  
  
“But –”  
  
“Now, Eric.” I pulled back from him, forcing a smile as Henry. Eric stared up at me with a tear-streaked face, looking as he did when he was alive. “I’m proud of you for coming here. It’s an improvement. It means you’re ready to start healing.”  
  
He caught on immediately, as they all tended to do. “No, no, please –” Eric reached out for me again, but I had to scoot back to avoid him. “I don’t want to hurt him! Please don’t make me hurt him! I can’t!”  
  
It was going to be a process, like it had been for everyone else. To see Eric crumble at the slightest prodding almost made me shake my head out of pity. But everyone started like this and they still made progress regardless. He would be no exception to this.  
  
“Jump in, Eric.” I gestured to the lake with the fishing rod. “You’ll be back. But you need to leave for now. You can’t avoid this; no one can avoid this.”  
  
Eric stared at the lake, then at me, and then back to the lake. He shook his head even as he dipped one foot in, slowly submerging his entire bloody leg. After a pointed hesitation, one that I pointedly _ignored_, he reluctantly submerged himself into the murky depths.  
  
I didn’t bother to check if he was looking up at me as he floated back down to William’s customized purgatory. He most likely was – new spirits normally did.  
  
Once again, all was silent. All was peaceful. Only the sound of William’s pained howls reached here, and even then, it faded into the background.  
  
I was ready for the next spirit that needed to process things, one that needed just a little more help healing. One that needed a shoulder, or someone to listen while they pieced the puzzle together themselves.  
  
I reeled in a fish out of the lake, and examined it carefully. Flecks of blood had come up with it, which was promptly thrown off while it struggled in my grip. It was nothing unusual. I simply tossed it back in, threw out the line again, and waited for the next one.  
  
I was very good at waiting.


End file.
